


Good All Day

by civilsmile



Series: peace like a river [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gags, HYDRA Trash Party, Loving Objectification, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 01:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7019803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civilsmile/pseuds/civilsmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It can't say <i>indulge me</i>, but Steve can take a hint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good All Day

Steve's grin is full of blood. The Asset cowers at his feet, its forehead pressed to the mat, its weak hand curled tight around his ankle. He likes the way it hangs onto him, now, when it expects punishment. He wipes his mouth on the collar of his shirt, and kicks it softly in the ribs. "Hey!" it says. Its breathing is quick, but not panicked. There's no tremor in its shoulders. As Steve watches, it presses a kiss to the laces of his shoe in halfhearted terror. 

"Look at me, fucktoy," Steve tells it, to see if he can make it smile. It peers up at him obediently. "My fault, not yours." It's a thrill, training with the Asset. It's better than he is, faster, and it relishes the chance to show him its worth. It hadn't anticipated his stumble; hadn't meant to slam a fist into its handler's jaw. "I'm not mad, and not hurt any worse than I deserve."

"Damn right," it says faintly. "Next time, remember to duck."

He kicks it again, and it huffs out a reluctant breath of laughter. "Oh, is that how it is? Why don't you get the fuck up, and we'll see about _next time_." 

It leans in, daring, to rub its cheek against his shin. "You're slow," it says. "Old man." Steve grabs a handful of its hair and pulls. It's not so hard, these days, to coax it back to its feet.

* * *

Back home, showered and changed, he makes it sit with him on the couch and tries to cuddle it. When it doesn't lean into his touch, he lets go. It slides gratefully to the floor. After a moment, it rests its head on his knee to comfort him. 

Later, it ignores the place he sets for it at the table, folding itself neatly at his side to eat from his hands if he wants to feed it. Steve pets it thoughtfully. "Still waiting?"

Its shoulders hunch. " _No_." Steve says nothing. He feels it shudder under his hand. Eventually, it shrugs. "Yes. Sorry. Doesn't matter whose fault. Would have been a bad one."

Steve tears off a bite of buttered bread and holds it out. The Asset takes it delicately; chews, swallows, kisses his fingers in thanks. "That's okay," Steve says. The Asset doesn't need his denials, his assurances. It's not confused. "Anything I can do?"

The Asset ducks its head. "Whatever you like." 

"Sure," Steve says, and he knows the Asset will hear the smile in his voice. It can't say _indulge me_ , but Steve can take a hint. He feeds it the rest of its meal, slowly, letting it lick his fingers lovingly clean after each bite while it waits for him to get around to beating it.

* * *

By the time they're done eating, the Asset is flushed and restless, and Steve is hard in his jeans. It darts him a hopeful glance, then winces to be caught looking and returns its gaze politely to the floor. His fault, Steve knows, for being such a dick to it when it was a new toy he didn't know how to use. It was easily trained: he hadn't had to shove it away and freak the fuck out at it more than a handful of times before it learned not to offer itself. Which is a goddamn shame, and a problem he means to fix. For now, though, he reaches out to grip its jaw, forces his thumb between its teeth. It jerks a little, still shy around its face, but lets him tilt its head up to meet his eyes. 

"I know what you need," he tells it. He doesn't, not really, and he won't presume to guess, not on a day like this when the past breathes in the room beside them and memory crawls across the Asset's skin. It's fine—the Asset will show him what it wants. He strokes hard over its tongue, making it moan. "Go get ready while I clean up." 

It can't move, of course, while he's holding its mouth. It whimpers, caught, and he smirks at it, keeps it there on its knees until it retaliates with a slow, filthy suck. Heat lances through him. When it hears his breath catch, the Asset manages to look smug. 

He lets go, finally, and wipes his hand on its cheek. Dismissed, it rises with its usual grace and pads softly into the bedroom.

Steve does the dishes, and tries not to think about the time he'd found it braced against the foot of his bed with a plug in its ass and his belt draped over its back. They know each other better than that now. He remembers Natasha with its head in her lap, its sigh of contentment as she stroked its hair. _You might as well love it, Rogers. You'd be the first._

* * *

He finds it naked on the bedroom floor, its forehead resting on the carpet, its palms open and sweetly upturned. He doesn't recognize the black leather band buckled loosely around its neck.

He leans down to unclasp the thing and pull it free. The strap holds a large steel ring, framed by four flaring steel legs. It looks medical, cruel. His stomach sinks.

"Is this—" Steve turns it over in his hands. The Asset sits up, unbidden, to look at him. "Is this a reward? Because you've been—" He stops, swallows. "You've been so good, sweetheart. Or is it—"

"Yes," the Asset says, before he can finish the thought. "A reward." It smiles up at him, its eyes lazy with the anticipation of pleasure. Its cock is hard against its belly. "Please, Steve. You said it yourself. I've been good all day."

Steve can't help his answering smile. _Okay_ , he thinks. "Okay. Get up." It comes neatly to its feet. He feels the shock of standing fully clothed next to its scarred body. In the gym, in a fair fight, it can take him down. In here, it has no way to defend itself. "Open your mouth." 

It parts its lips, not nearly wide enough to take the gag. It can't disobey, but it can ask for trouble. "Wider." Another centimeter, insolent. Steve slaps it. 

"Ow," the Asset says, and shifts its stance in invitation. Steve sighs, and knocks it obligingly back to the floor. It catches itself on hands and knees, the contrition of its downcast gaze spoiled by its unrepentant grin. When he reaches down to grab its head, though, it flinches badly. _Not important_. Steve follows the movement, tangling a fist in its hair and dragging it close. 

"Open your _mouth_." It complies this time, no hesitation, like he's really going to set that ring behind its teeth. Steve lets go to seize its wrist instead, and presses the gag into its hand. "You want it, you put it on."

"Aw, _Steve_ ," it says, and shoves the damn thing back at him. The moment stretches. It's had a hard day, Steve thinks, and he loves to indulge it, but he doubts it can take the gag without a fight. It won't mind, but he might, and it'll stop having fun in a hurry if he lets it upset him. Its eyelids flutter closed, trusting, and Steve wants to fuck it and wants to hug it and wants to use it the way it deserves. _You'd be the first_. 

"Oh," the Asset says, opening its eyes again. "That's—" _Okay_ , Steve thinks again, and lets the worry go. He digs strong fingers into its jaw, the playful gesture from dinner turned cruel, and pries its teeth apart. It struggles, can't help it, whining and cringing away, but he gets the gag in and buckles it tight behind the Asset's head. It breathes in wet, unsteady gasps, its eyes wide and desperate, pupils blown. 

He nudges its leaking cock with the ball of his foot. It's too well-trained to rut against him, but it groans, and makes a ruined sound Steve thinks might be _please_. "Hands behind your back," he tells it, and it obeys as he unfastens his belt and slides it off. There's one bad moment, standing over it with the leather doubled in his fist, and then he tosses it away and undoes his jeans and wraps a hand, finally, around his own aching cock. 

The Asset can't suck him, like this. Its mouth gapes, an obscene and defenseless hole. The ugly metal legs of the gag dig savagely into its skin. He grips its hair again to steady it and feeds his cock slowly between its lips. Its clever tongue caresses him, welcoming, and he hisses at the pleasure and the strangeness of it. He pulls back until the fat head of his cock rests just inside the ring, lets the Asset wait helplessly for the next push. 

He keeps his thrusts shallow, at first, and eases his hold. It will show him, when it's ready, if the brutal gag is meant for fantasy or function. After a minute, it sways toward him, taking him in until it chokes. Undignified, unskilled. When it pulls back, its lashes are wet. Its eyes are very bright.

Again. This time, when it tries to pull away, he holds it down, forces himself deeper. It swallows around him, a hot slick clench that almost makes him shout. He rapes the back of its throat with large, vicious strokes, his hips finding a rhythm that leaves it straining for breath. Its face is a mess: cheeks damp with tears, chin glazed with spit. When he's close, he shoves as deep as he can, lets the frantic spasms of its throat milk him dry. It gags, coughing, and he uses a finger to gather the spilled come from its lips, pushes it helpfully back inside. 

When it manages to swallow everything, he lets go. He thinks about telling it to hump the carpet if it wants to come, imagines the rough dry fabric torturing its cock. But fair is fair, and he can spare a little indulgence for himself. He drops to his knees beside it, pushes it roughly onto its back. It moans and thrashes when he bends down to take it in his mouth, its whole body convulsing as it tries not to come without permission. He sucks softly, drags his tongue along the underside of its cock, pressing hard just below the head until it cries out. Another slow suck, and it starts trying to beg through the gag. 

He wants to see it lose control. One day, maybe, but not tonight. He pulls off, presses a kiss to its drooling, twitching slit. "You can," he says, and swallows it down again. It wails with pleasure, with gratitude, and arches off the floor as it comes. 

He takes the gag off as gently as he can, unbuckling it and easing it free, ready for the Asset to flinch from the careful touches to its face. It turns toward him instead, sleepy and affectionate, and rubs its cheek lazily against his knuckles. He gets it a glass of water, and fetches a damp cloth to wipe it clean. It crawls to the foot of his bed and curls up. Steve puts a blanket over it.


End file.
